Reflections, Not Resolutions by Nancy L. Eady

As we are now in the final quarter of the year, I thought I’d reflect on what I learned this past year. I will not, however, make any resolutions besides one—the resolution not to make any resolutions. It appears to be the only resolution I can keep with regularity. Before that, I made resolutions only to end up breaking them. I always ended up with a long list designed to address my many flaws at once, which meant that the entire list of resolutions was broken before January ended. The record was the decision to swear off Diet Coke, which I made at 9:00 a.m. one day and broke by 9:05 a.m. the same day. 

Reflecting on the lessons I learned this year does not break the resolution not to make a resolution, so here we go.

In 2024, I learned: 

My inner critic is a real pain in the posterior who must remain firmly locked in a closet—until it’s time to edit, at which time she is allowed free rein. 

Riding in an ambulance is not nearly as fun as you think it would be. And NG tubes are the worst. But access to doctors and nurses who help you recover from surgery to remove carcinoid tumors is essential, although the conversation with the surgeon who explained how she felt all of my intestines while she was in me removing parts of it was surreal. The oncologist who told me in September I graduated from three-month to six-month follow ups is a favorite physician of mine. 

The international canine signal to play the barking game is to pick up your cell phone, and the opening of my laptop is the international canine signal to start the “in/out” game. 

The single most inspirational tool I have discovered to date, bar none, is the deadline. Not the preferred deadline, or the suggested deadline, but the file/submit-or-you-will-be-dismissed-from-court/publication deadline.

You never really notice how many places are available to hide bodies until you start writing mystery novels. 

It is amazing how many ways to commit murder you can find on Google. 

It is amazing how many murders are solved on the Discovery ID Channel. 

It is amazing how many people in the real world forget to erase their browsing history before committing murder pursuant to one of the methods adduced on Google. If my protagonist solved a murder that way, my readers would feel cheated. 

Scrivener fans really believe in it; those of us who can’t figure it out are better off sticking with Word. 

Ideas are plentiful, but the persistence to carry the idea through to a finished book is rare. 

I have words I overuse in my rough drafts. My first editing step is to make sure that my characters rarely shrug, sigh, fidget or exclaim. My second step is to weed out every “that” possible. I am grateful to the software engineer who invented the “search” function for word processors. 

When editing, less is more, until deletions make the manuscript unintelligible. Then more means more. 

Good beta readers are found in the oddest places. Of the three people who read my novel last year, the two I thought would be the best beta readers didn’t work out nearly as well as the third person to whom I sent the book simply to give her something to do while she recovered from major surgery. (This assessment does not include my husband, who is a great beta reader.) 

“Never, ever, ever give up” is an excellent motto for a writer. 

What lessons have come your way this year?